


Can we ever get rid of the whats and the ifs?

by Elisexyz



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s02e21 Second Star To The Right, F/M, Injury, Near Death Experiences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-14 01:17:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16030001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: Falling through a portal is no picnic, that’s for sure.Emma falls right after Neal.





	Can we ever get rid of the whats and the ifs?

**Author's Note:**

> For the Tumblr prompt: [6\. “You can’t die. Please don’t die.” + Swanfire](http://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/178220297069/are-you-up-for-the-please-dont-die-prompt-and). I did think about taking the super angsty route here, but... naaaah.

Falling through a portal is no picnic, that’s for sure.

Emma lands on what seems like a beach, sand getting under her clothes and in her mouth and nose as she breathes.

She immediately turns on her back, coughing and spitting, her heart still racing and adrenaline urging her to _move_. For a moment, she’s only glad that she’s alive and well, because the free fall made her certain that she would _die_ , that it was all over because the stupid floor couldn’t be bothered to hold its own, then it’s like her stomach suddenly forgot that she’s not falling anymore.

“Neal!” she calls out, quickly sitting up and looking around, praying that they landed in the same place and that he landed in one piece. “Neal!” she insists, her heart racing as she stands up, a bit unsteady on her feet, to get a better look.

He must be there, he _must_ — he was bleeding a lot, what are the chances that he’s still alive?

“Ne—” The name dies in her throat as she catches sight of a dark figure lying motionless on the beach. She can’t be sure from that distance, but it could be a person. It could be him.

She runs, even though her lungs burn and the sand makes it difficult to go as fast as she would want to, and she drops on her knees as soon as she’s close enough to be sure that it’s him. Relief washes through her, because if he’s _there_ maybe there’s something that she can do.

“Neal,” she calls, turning him on his back with, in retrospect, a not so gentle touch. “Neal, can you hear me?” she insists, but his eyes stay closed, even as she tries to push aside his coat and reach for the gunshot. She doesn’t have anything to cut the clothes and expose the wound, so she can only yelp at the sight of the pouring blood, put some pressure and bring her ear close to his nose to make sure that he’s still breathing.

At first, she doesn’t feel anything, and in those few seconds her mind goes blank in panic and she stops breathing as well. Then she feels a faint breath of air, and she exhales loudly in relief, bowing her head to hide her very much inappropriate laugh.

He’s alive, he’s still alive, she can still fix it.

She needs help though, so she tries to push some more on the wound, half hoping that the pain would wake him up – no such luck – and she starts frantically looking around, praying that some good Samaritan will show up, possibly with a stretcher and a doctor nearby.

“Help!” she calls, for good measure, even though she can’t see anybody. “Anybody? Please, we need help!”

She bites back a curse, because of course they couldn’t land in a crowded village or something, no, it had to be in the middle of _nowhere_ , so that she’d have to watch Neal die in front of her while knowing that she could have saved him if they hadn’t been so fucking _unlucky_.

“You can’t die,” she lets out, breathless, keeping her eyes fixed on his face as if enough staring could force him to wake the hell up. “Please, don’t die,” she adds, her voice quivering. Honestly, she can’t even _begin_ to care about _dignity_ right now. “Help!” she calls once again.

“Hey!”

She turns around so fast that she cricks her neck, breaking into a relieved laugh when she sees a man dressed as a knight running towards them, followed by— Aurora?

“Emma,” she says, eyes wide. “Emma, what—”

“He’s been shot, he needs help,” she interrupts, quickly, looking back and forth from her and the guy, silently praying that they have a camp or something set up nearby, that they can _save_ him.

She’s probably lacking in manners at the moment, but she doesn’t care. She’ll be happy to play catch-up _later_.

“Alright, let’s get him up,” the man says, kneeling beside them.

Emma nods frantically, trying to get her heartbeat to slow down. _You are gonna be fine, everything is gonna be alright, we’ll get back to Henry and you’ll be fine_.

 

Neal stirs when Aurora and Mulan are in the middle of telling her all about ogres and other fun stuff that you apparently have to live with every day if you want to live in the Enchanted Forest – which makes sense, considering all the weird shit that happens in Storybrooke, this is basically a whole land of that weirdness.

Emma has been awkwardly hovering around Neal since when they’ve fixed him up with some erbs that she can’t for the life of her remember the name of, casting not too subtle glances in his direction approximately every thirty seconds, so when he starts moving she’s quick to give him all her attention, a relieved smile twisting her lips – because one thing is having this place’s version of a medic telling her that he’ll be okay, another is _seeing_ it.

“Hey,” she calls, automatically grabbing his arm.

Neal frowns, blinking a couple of times as he stares at her. “Emma?” he calls, or at least that’s what she thinks that hoarse sound coming out of his mouth is supposed to be. He tries to sit up, because he’s an idiot, and she’s quick to push him down.

“Woah, woah, _no_ — stay down for a minute—”

Aurora quickly supplies some water when he doesn’t seem to be able to answer without coughing, and, well, he kinda looks like shit, but he’s _alive_ , and Emma can’t help being overjoyed at the unexpected development. There had been a solid minute there that she was convinced he’d die in her arms, and she can’t seem to be able to shake off the horror of that realization, even as he’s staring right back at her.

“Emma, what— how did you get here?” he asks, apprehensively.

“I fell,” she says, drily. “The floor broke, I had nothing to grab.”

Neal blinks. “Shit,” he mumbles, relaxing back against the pillow with a grimace. “Henry.”

Emma swallows. She has been trying _not_ to think about that, unless it is to remind herself that they’ll find a way to get back to him.

“My parents are with him,” she assures, appearing much more relaxed than she is. Maybe Neal is feeling shitty enough that he won’t see through it. “And Regina,” she adds. She may not always have the best judgement, but at the very least Emma can trust that no third parties will harm a hair on Henry’s head so long as Regina has something to say about it. That’s good.

“We need to go back,” Neal says, urgently. He tries to sit up, _again_ , and Emma promptly pushes him back down.

“We _will_ ,” she stresses, keeping her hand firm on his shoulder so that he doesn’t get any other funny ideas about hurting himself any further. “ _After_ you’ve gotten some rest.”

“I’m—”

“If you say _fine_ , I’m going to punch you right over that pretty bandage and leave you here to agonize, I _swear_ ,” she hisses, and it comes out way harsher than she had intended. Well, fuck him, he almost _died_ and he wants to start running around immediately after like it’s no big deal, he deserves it.

Neal kindly shuts up for a moment, staring at her. Emma feels evaluated somehow, and her eyes drift away.

“Are you mad at me?” Neal finally asks, half-way between fearful and confused.

“I— well, _yes_ ,” she bursts out, her tone raising a little. “First you do the noble hero thing and decide that you can happily throw yourself into a stupid portal in front of me, you almost _die_ because of it, and like _ten minutes_ later you are ready to go back to running around like I didn’t just lose like ten years of my life— _yes_ , you bet your ass I’m _mad_.”

She inhales sharply, realizing that she hasn’t taken any air in throughout the whole thing, her cheeks eating up a little after the outburst. She wasn’t quite expecting to get all that out.

Neal just stares for a few seconds, then the right corner of his mouth starts twitching up, the way it does when he’s trying not to be a smug asshole but he’s failing miserably.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he says, managing to sober up. “I’m sorry you worried.”

 _Worried_. What a giant euphemism.

“Yeah, well, least you can do is staying put for a while,” she replies, a little sheepishly.

Neal nods. “Alright. We need to come up with a plan anyway, right?”

“Right.”

It’s when silence falls between them and Neal’s expression turns hesitant that she remembers what exactly came out of her mouth as she thought they were running out of time.

 _I need you. I love you_.

Shit.

 _I love you too_.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Did you— did you mean it?” Neal ends up asking, quietly. “What you said when I— you know.”

Emma swallows, automatically checking to see if their hosts have given them a bit of privacy – they have, so no excuses, even if she isn’t sure if she’s ready to have this conversation yet, or possibly ever.

“Uh, I—” she begins, and she doesn’t quite know how to continue.

“Hey, okay, you know what—” he rushes to her aid, and she isn’t sure if she’s thankful for it or not. “I get it, emotions running high and—and we thought— it’s fine.”

It wouldn’t be that difficult to agree and leave it at that, to lie her ass off and make it clear that they’ll only be co-parents for Henry and possibly friends. But hell, he almost _died_ , and when she felt all the time they should have had slipping between her fingers she thought it so _unfair_ that they didn’t get their second chance, and she wished with everything she had for the power to stop him from leaving.

She did it. She’d better stop being stupid and start _using_ the extra time. After all, it can’t get much worse than watching him fall to his death with no saying in the matter, right?

“No, no, wait—” she stammers, rushing the words out before she can overthink herself out of it. “I—I did. I did mean it.”

Neal’s expression lightens up, and something unclenches in her stomach. The childlike joy on his face brings her back to happier times.

“Oh, okay, that’s— so did I,” he quickly says, smiling up at her. “So we—we should probably talk. After we work out how to get back to Henry.”

“Yeah,” she nods, smiling back and reaching for his hand. It’s a peaceful moment and not fighting back against something she can’t control feels easier, quieter. “We should.”


End file.
